The Carnival
by TheBookBully
Summary: One-shot. Set during Order of the Phoenix. Voldemort has returned and Remus must reach out to the werewolves around him before the Death Eaters do. Old friendship and alliances are tested under the dark cloud of a growing war.


**A/N: **"Hey! So this story is pulled from a chapter that I wrote for my multi-chapter story 'Chemistry & Timing'. It was just a really fun scene to write, and as I was working on it I came up with an alternate ending. The ending didn't really fit within my story, but the scene stood well on it's own so I decided to rework it for a one-shot.

This was a subject matter I always found interesting with the series. Look at the Order of the Phoenix because really, what they were doing in both the first and second war was intelligence work. These wars had battles yes, but most of the effort was in sneaking and spying and manipulating. It is a realistic detail that helped make these stories so much more than just about magic. So I wanted to show Remus in this environment, because he is just so fascinating and this is exactly the sort of work he would have been doing. I hope you like it and thanks for taking the time to read!" - E

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**oOo The Carnival oOo**

The night was both cool and warm. Trees were growing bare as fall settled into the valley but the last hints of summer still hung in the air, and the small wood Remus Lupin apparated in was shadowed under the light of a partial moon. He moved forward, crossing across a small ditch to the lane, where a stream of muggles made their way to the carnival that had been tented in the nearby field.

The carnival was a frenzy of lights and noise, the smell of popcorn and firework smoke heavy in the air. The muggles made their way under a large banner into the chaos, laughing and talking, completely unaware that they were entering a place far, far from normal. Remus moved with the crowd, through the rows of rides and games, taking his time and letting his eyes wander over everyone behind the scenes. And he felt their eyes on him too.

He had gone over everything with Dumbledore. He had spent the most of the afternoon preparing himself for what he had to do, hoping each note and bit of information would help but, but also knowing it was the quickness of conversation, the small moments that would decide that evening.

He made his way past the tilt-a-whirl and Ferris wheel to the edge of the carnival, where the rides stopped and a row of campers began. He crossed over into the camp, moving quickly and directly towards the center where there was a simple wooden, pick-nick table.

And at the center of the table sat Rojin, the owner of the carnival and pack leader of one of the largest werewolf communes in Europe.

"Oh, Remus! What a surprise!" Rojin said as Remus approached, his voice quick and cheerful, booming out above the noise. It was an act, of course. He had all known Remus was there almost from the moment he had apparated onto the site. But Remus smiled all the same as Rojin stood, putting out his cigarette in the leftovers from his dinner and then shaking Remus' hand. "Sit down! Sit down! You want a drink? Of course you do!"

Remus took the empty seat across from him, and then nodded in agreement to the bottle the smiling werewolf held out.

"What a surprise this is!" he continued to gush. "It's been, what? Six months since we've seen you?"

"Closer to eight."

"Too long, too long."

Rojin was tall and stocky, the natural bulk and muscle of hard work. His hair he kept long, the thick bronze brain draped over one shoulder, and his eyes were sharp and alert under a full brow. He held himself well, somewhere between ease and alertness, both relaxed in his seat and leaning forward at the same time. For the leader of a werewolf pack, hiding under the ruse of a carnival, he looked the part perfectly. A true pirate king.

Like Remus and the half-a-dozen others seated around them at the table, Rojin was heavily scared. And, as he poured Remus and himself a drink, Remus noted the three fingers on his right hand that were missing. Half a lifetime ago he had told Remus the story. "I was just a pup then—a childish reaction to the moon!" During one of his first transformations, after his own father had intentionally bit him, he had chewed off his own fingers.

"How did you do last month? The moon was quite strong."

Remus shrugged. "Well enough. Nothing I wasn't used to." The fall moon cycles were the strongest of the year, but he felt little difference under the wolfsbane.

Rojin set down the bottle of foggy liquor—one of the carnival's own brews—and held up his glass. Remus held up his glass too, toasted, and knocked it back, working hard to keep himself from gasping as the liquid burned at his chest, drawing a small rise from the wolfish part of himself. It may be called moonshine, but it was nothing like any muggle variety. Before coming that night, Remus had taken a draft of a sobriety potion, and now he hoped it was strong enough to prevent the drink from fogging his senses. There was much he needed to discus with Rojin, and for that he needed a clear head.

At the table around them, business continued as usual. Remus poured them another drink while Rojin talked quietly to a small, wiry werewolf, reading over a list of finances, dictating some course of action.

Rojin ruled over thirty to forty werewolves, their number fluctuating with the carnival season. The pack was the largest in England, and one of the oldest. Rojin was the 5th generation in charge, a lineage quite uncommon to werewolves, but for that they had the carnival to thank. For a short time, Remus had known Rojin's father when he had been in charge. Sitting in a similar setting, the sound of muggles screaming on rides, the taste of moonshine on his tongue, he remembered the low grumbling talk of the battle-ax werewolf. He had been told the famous family story, the story of how his great-grandfather had performed—his word for his monthly transformation—before Queen Victoria and Prince Albert and how The Queen, the ruler of continents, had stepped back in fear of him.

"Why, hello!" purred a voice in Remus' ear, and the next moment a woman had climbed into his lap. One arm draped across his shoulders, while the other made its way across his chest, her hand snaking through the buttons of his shirt. She smelled like the carnival, a mixture of caramel and cigarettes, and her long painted nails scratched playfully at his chest. Though it was quite chilly out, she was scantily dressed, her skin exposed, and on that skin Remus saw the telltale scars that broke the smooth flesh, many of them pink and fresh. His eyes then moved to her face. She was pretty. She smiled and her bright red lips spread in an attractive way. Yet Remus also noted that she was very young, perhaps only sixteen or seventeen.

These sort of young girls were always here. Pack mentality and the nomadic lifestyle of the carnival fueled their wolfish, wild side. Some worked as prostitutes, but they would all be interested in a new werewolf in their midst, especially a wizard with a wand in his pocket.

Rojin was again talking to another werewolf about some carnival matter, but Remus knew his eyes were on him, seeing how he reacted to his new company. Again, pack mentality thrived in this environment, and everything Remus said and did would be judged. When he was younger, he often found himself fighting and wresting before the night was over. Thankfully he was getting too old for that, but the girl in his lap wasn't much easier. She continued to whisper in his ear, her hand still under his shirt, pulling playfully at his chest hair. Feeling Rojin's eyes, Remus gave himself just a moment to prepare himself, and then smiled, squeezing her side playfully. She laughed, squirming in his arms, and he leaned close, his lips brushing against her neck. Yet, right as her body relaxed in his arms and she sighed in content, he pulled her to the side, flipping her off his lap and onto the dirt.

Rojin and the others roared with laughter and she jumped her, her eyes flashing. However, before she had the chance to strike him—a perfectly justifiable reaction—Remus thought of Sirius and channeled that cocky, womanizing look from their youth. He flashed his most charming smile and winked. "Sorry, love," he said. "Maybe some other time."

She paused, her eyes darting between Remus and the others who were still laughing, to Rojin, too, Remus noticed. She hesitated for another moment and then stood straighter, brushing the mulch from her skirt. With one last dirty look at Remus and a flip of her hair, she hurried over to a group of girls on the edge of the clearing, all similarity dressed and scarred, laughing at their friend's humiliation. They ran back through the caravans towards the carnival, looking over their shoulder at Remus and giggling.

Remus turned to Rojin, who was still chuckling. "A muggle?" He asked, reaching for the bottle of moonshine.

"Perhaps," Rojin shrugged as Remus poured their drinks. "If she were, wouldn't she be better here with her own kind?" he took the drink Remus offered, and again raised it. "To the moon."

"To the moon."

They knocked back their drinks.

"Will you report me?" Rojin asked as he set down his glass.

"About the girl? To whom?"

"Yes, your ministry does seem to have other things on their mind at the moment," he sat down his glass slowly. A playful look was in his eyes. "We've been seeing a lot of your Albus Dumbledore in the papers lately. You may praise him so highly, and yet…" he picked up a nearby copy of the Prophet and read aloud. _"The position of High Inquisitor within Hogwarts has set a new level of Ministry efficiency… The days of isolated control at the school have long passed, the questionable whims of Albus Dumbledore finally in check."_

A few of the wolves snickered. Remus matched Rojin's gaze who, thankfully, did not laugh. When he had last visited, back in June, many had been eager to hear what Dumbledore had to say. While werewolves with magical blood were generally home schooled, they all knew the name of Albus Dumbledore and his general kindness towards their kind. Yet it seemed that the Prophet's smear campaign had even met their ears.

Remus had known Rojin for a very long time. Remus had heard rumors of the traveling werewolf carnival when he was younger, but it was some time before he had actually seen it and then met Rojin. The were the same age and had met at twenty-three, and though they had completely different backgrounds, a similar temperament and intelligence made for an easy friendship. Part of him always suspected that if they had met just a few years earlier, perhaps right after the death of James and Peter's betrayal, he would have joined him and the carnival.

"How has the season been?" Remus asked, turning the conversation back to Rojin. He looked over towards the rides with interest. "Any difficulties with the muggle authorities?"

"Well enough—everything needs a permit, it seems. My great-grandfather's time has long passed." He reached for a pack of cigarettes, a small smile darting across his face.

While Remus sat across from him at one perspective, Dumbledore and the order's wishes at the front of his mind, he also had his own sense of the situation. He didn't know if Rojin knew how much Remus had gathered over the years, but Remus knew that besides a carnival that catered to muggles, the pack-leader also ran a large drug trade. Magical skill to produce and hide the product. Muggle lifestyle as a cover and means of distribution.

He offered a cigarette to Remus, who declined. Rojin shrugged and then lit his own, the red spark of fire illuminating his scarred face, and Remus decided that it was time. Werewolves were direct creatures and while there were politics, they both knew the questions were coming. Remus leaned back in his seat.

"Fenrir Greyback."

Rojin did not answer. He set down his lighter and exhaled, the smoke settling between them. Remus continued.

"He's been in the country for over six months now."

"Has he?" he took another drag of his cigarette. "I never understand the movements of you lone wolves." He winked at Remus.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

Rojin laughed and then shrugged.

"I see many people! It's been a good season," he gestured over to the rides and hustle of the carnival. "On a slow night we do two hundred here—on a good night, over two thousand."

He talked like a proud parent, looking wistfully at the Ferris wheel. Remus forced his expression to remain unchanged at Rojin's answer. He knew this is how it would be, surrounded by others within his pack Rojin was obligated to put Remus off kilter and show his authority. It was his game. Their dance. And so, silently, Remus sat and awaited the answer to his question. A few moments later, Rojin finished his cigarette and put it out on the table. He smiled.

"Fenrir was my fathers's friend—almost an older brother to me—you understand?"

Remus nodded. "And when was the last time you saw your brother?"

Rojin smiled and leaned back.

"A month ago."

"A month?"

"Four or five weeks, perhaps—six at the most."

"Was his appearance planned?"

"Did you ever know him to plan anything?"

Yes, thought Remus, his shoulder too answering the question. The old bite scar almost tingled at Fenrir's name. "What did you talk about?"

"I don't have time for wizarding politics." he poured Remus and himself another drink. "I have a business to run, a pack to oversee."

He smiled, and held up the glass. Remus toasted and, once again, knocked it back. This was his third drink and again he hoped the potion would keep him sober. Yet he was also pleased to see Rojin drinking so much.

"And Fenrir—what did he talk about?"

Rojin smiled. "Oh the usual. He likes to talk, you remember—bragging about all he killed when in Italy, how easy it was to get away with everything there," he reflected. He then leaned to the side for a moment to sign some paperwork that had been presented to him. "Won't you have something to eat, Remus?"

On the table were several dishes, all raw meat. That dark part of himself, fueled by the moonshine, longed for the wet, red mutton chop in front of him, but Remus shook his head. "Earlier you called him a lone wolf."

"Did I?"

"Yes," Remus picked his words carefully. "But I'm sure you've heard the rumors. That, lately, he hasn't been so lone."

Rojin shrugged. "Of course."

"Did he have anything to say about this new pack?"

Rojin watched Remus, leaving the question unanswered. Around him, Remus felt the air thicken, and saw the darting glances between the others who had been listening in. He could feel their judgment and their questions in his silence. How many of them had been there when Fenrir had made an appearance? How many had heard Voldemort's propaganda and tied themselves to the werewolf? And also, how many against? That number dictated Rojin's attitude and his answer. A good leader balanced the opinion, using that prime leverage to then move the pack as he wished.

"I am surprised," Rojin finally answered, his voice low and serious. "To see you asking so many questions of Fenrir—wasn't it he who fathered you?" Remus hated the term, but he nodded anyway. "He fathered many here as well… some would find your questions disloyal."

There it was: the threat. Again, he liked Rojin and he valued their friendship, but he also knew that his friend was extremely dangerous. Remus had carefully hidden his wand within the lining of his robe, a gesture of respect for those of his kind who weren't allowed to carry one. He hoped he didn't have to use it; if he pulled his wand here, Remus would never get the information he was wanting, and he would never be allowed back again. He picked his next words extremely carefully.

"I have always found loyalty works best when earned… rather than forced upon."

Rojin didn't react but around the clearing, Remus saw the others shift at his words. He knew he was skirting close to the fire. While Remus would give anything to be rid of that one night the moon took over and that monstrous side of him, he was surrounded by others who found the other 30 days of the month the burden.

Perhaps Rojin, too, felt the tension around them, because he suddenly smiled and stood. "Come. Come, let's move to my 'van."

He grabbed the bottle and their glasses and moved across the clearing. Remus followed, walking through the campground towards a large muggle RV parked on the edge of the wood. None of the other werewolves, even those who had sat at their table alongside them, followed. Relief filled him—it would be easier to get information out of Rojin in private—but Remus forced it aside, not wanting to get ahead of himself and lose his concentration.

Rojin's wife was inside the camper, overseeing a pile of paperwork as they entered. Alyssa was very beautiful, tall and elegant and very different from other girls of the camp. There was a proud hardness to her, an old world pedigree. A quick look from her husband and the papers were shuffled out of sight. She stood and moved to the door. Rojin pulled her closer for a moment, kissing her neck and whispering in her ear. She glanced at Remus, who bowed slightly. She did not return the gesture.

With Alyssa's departure and the click of the door, the camper was filled with a tight silence. Rojin stood, leaning against the laminate countertop, his thoughts elsewhere for the first time since Remus had come to the campsite. Remus did not disturb his stillness. A few seconds passed and then Rojin shook his head and moved into the room, his attitude quickly shifting now that they were out of sight, the mask sliding off.

"You can't just come on a social call? Have some dinner, a little drink—perhaps take a ride on the tilt-a-whirl or on one of my girls?"

"I am sorry."

He nodded. Crossing the camper, Rojin took his wife's vacated seat on the bench at the table. Under the fluorescent light, he suddenly looked very different, less mysterious and powerful now that he was away from the bustle and excitement. He glanced out of the window towards the picnic table they had just left. Remus was certain that the camper was heavily warded against eavesdropping, but Rojin's sudden hesitation made Remus nervous as well.

"We are friends, aren't we, Remus? Good friends?"

"I'd like to think so."

Rojin smiled. "Did you see my boy? My Kristopher? Probably not. He's always running around the grounds, causing problems—as he should be at that age," he smiled and then looked back at Remus. "He turns ten in the spring… the age in which I'll bite him… But of course you hate that tradition?"

Remus met his gaze. "It's just a different world than mine."

Rojin nodded. "Yes, a different world." He sighed and looked down at his right hand, where his three fingers were missing. "And yet here you are now… in my world."

He sighed again, and then reached for the bottle, pouring out another round. Remus didn't want to drink anymore, but he dared not refuse.

"It was four weeks ago that Fenrir came," he looked up at Remus as he handed him the glass. "He did not come alone… he came with Walden McNair." Rojin knocked back the drink, slamming the glass down on the counter. Remus paused, and then, too, finished his drink, Rojin's words swimming in his head.

This was shocking news.

The Order had known for months now that Fenrir was scouting talent across England, though how much of this was under Voldemort's command they couldn't be certain. But this news, that he was traveling with someone known to be a Death Eater, someone who had been with Voldemort for so long, was fantastic. Yet Remus also understood the look in Rojin's eye and understood why that Death Eater in specific made such a difference. For Fenrir to bring McNair _here_ was a massive mistake.

"Fenrir has been wanted by the ministry for years—advertised as the most dangerous werewolf in England—and then he strolled into the camp with a ministry official at his side." He said, his dark eyes on Remus. " I don't know if it was to show us how powerful he has become or how respected his talents were amongst them… but I do not forget!"

He poured himself another drink, but, thankfully, did not offer one to Remus. He drank slowly, a sadness in the movement. A sadness Remus understood.

McNair worked as an executioner for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. Even Remus, who had spent his entire life living friendly with the Ministry of Magic, knew fear in that department. The execution of a werewolf was uncommon. Pack leaders like Rojin worked hard to control everyone under their wing, keeping accidents and rogue behavior at a minimum—but accidents still happened. Accidents. Back in the early 70's, Rojin's fifteen-year-old brother somehow escaped during his transformation and killed a small girl in the neighboring town. Rojin's father worked every angle he could to keep the rest of the pack safe and out of the ministries attention, but his son was quickly rounded up. Without a trial, he was executed.

Rojin leaned his head back, the foggy liquid vanishing between his lips. He set the glass down and Remus was suddenly aware that his friend was growing drunk, his cool confidence waning.

"Fenrir had a wand. I'd never known him to carry one before then—he'd always bragged that his teeth were more deadly then a stick. But, unlike yourself, he didn't keep it hidden away in the lining of his coat. He showed it off, laughing at the looks of jealousy in our eyes."

His silence and diversion at the picnic table was gone. Remus didn't know if it was because of the moonshine or because Rojin trusted him, but he almost seemed eager to share. The conversation was now rolling, and all Remus would have to do is gently nudge it in the direction he wanted.

"And Voldemort?"

"Oh yes…" Rojin nodded, rubbing his chin in thought. "Fenrir talked about the dark lord."

"What did he say?"

He laughed.

"Oh, the usual propaganda. To those who felt disgusted by the moon he offered a chance for equality, a chance to pursue magic we had been denied for years. While to those who loved the blood and the fire he offered just that. More blood. More fire… All the while McNair looked on… he never spoke. He just watched us."

He sighed, his face darkening.

"Remus, his performance worked well. Since he left I've heard his speech repeated across the carnival and it sounds worse echoed in the voices of my pack." Rojin rubbed his eyes, and Remus could see the weight of responsibility on his friend. He continued on. " Perhaps I've been too kind over the years, taking in too many muggle strays… I've surrounded myself by those easily blinded by the wand sparks of a dark lord's lapdog."

"Is there risk of you losing control?"

He shook his head. "Not from someone like Fenrir. To take over the pack you also get the carnival and our side endeavors. While I have to be mindful of those very close to me, it's too difficult for someone on the outside… and yet…"he looked up. "I can feel the dark times coming…"

Rojin glanced down at his empty glass, pondering it for a moment, and then slid it across the counter. He turned to Remus, the sharpness returning suddenly, yet Remus could still see the slight fog in his friend's eyes. "So tell me, Remus," he said, his voice serious. "I know why you came and so I've told you everything you wanted to know. Now it's your turn… What is Dumbledore promising us?"

It was the question he had been waiting for. The one he had rehearsed. The one he had come to answer. And yet, as Remus met Rojin's gaze across the camper van, after seeing and feeling the pressures and Voldemort's influence upon him, Remus now knew his limitations. He couldn't buy his friend. He couldn't place The Order's hopes and ambitions against those of Fenrir's and let him choose. He respected and trusted Rojin too much and so Remus knew that simple honesty would be best.

"He offers, he does not promise." Remus answered. "He offers the same chance he has offered to witches, wizards, goblins and giants—the chance to stand against repression, to have our differences respected. He does not promise anything because he can't—not to you or anyone."

"And the Dark Lord? And his promises?"

"You remember how it was before. Voldemort will twist people to get what he wants—Fenrir is proof of that. His promises cannot be trusted."

The answer was not what Rojin had expected, but Remus truly believed it was what he needed to hear. They sat quietly for a moment, Rojin thinking and Remus giving him the space to do so. After a time, the pack-leader smiled to himself, chuckling.

"We only see each other every few years," he said. "but I think that makes it all the better. Time creates honesty in our relationship, don't you think?"

Remus smiled. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Then, Remus," he said slowly, leaning back in his seat. "Think of my pack. Think of my position… what do you suggest?"

It was a difficult question. Remus studied his friend's face, looking for any sign of the game or anything in the question to trip him up, but he saw nothing but the honest desire for advise. Remus had never lived amongst a pack or been a situation like Rojin's before, but still, he found himself answering.

"Stay away," he said. "Keep to your carnival and your muggle businesses. Of course you are welcome to join us, to fight alongside me, but—" Remus shook his head. "No… No, you said it best. This is your world…"

"And Fenrir?"

"Don't trust him," said Remus, frowning. "He's made his offer, or, rather, Voldemort's offer, and so he'll return."

"Should we kill him?"

Remus paused, the bluntness of the question surprising him.

"That is… your decision."

Rojin nodded and then laughed to himself. "Run…_ flee_… are these the wise words of Albus Dumbledore?"

"No," Remus answered, smiling to himself. "All mine, I assure you."

Rojin sighed. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. Again, Remus had done all that he could, for both The Order and the good of his friend. But he did not wish to be in Rojin's shoes. To fight for a cause was one challenge. To decide how to act, to pick the best course of action for the benefit of others, for the benefit of your family, was another. He did not envy the man before him.

Another silence took over, but they both knew it was the last. The distant sound of fireworks crashed outside, muffled through the campers walls. Rojin sat up, and smiled at Remus.

"Come, Remus," he said, reaching for the bottle. "One more drink with me?"

"Alright."

"How long have we known one another, Remus? Almost fifteen years? You are my friend!"

"Or course."

He poured the two glasses and set down the nearly empty bottle. Remus held up his glass, and Rojin matched the gesture. They both drank. This time, Remus let the moonshine flood over him, the wolfish side of him almost roaring. He grimaced and set the glass down, knowing that potion or not, he would be feeling it in the morning.

"You are a very tough wolf, Remus—you don't look it, but you are. I may have shared too much tonight!" Rojin laughed. "You have a very honest face. While you may hide what you are in the wizarding world, here I know you have nothing to hide. You have no secrets, and that honesty is contagious."

Remus laughed and they both stood and moved to the door.

"Go easy, Okay? You are my friend and I worry about you! You may be sitting on the front lines—god knows why—but don't let it take over. Visit the girls! Dazzle them with your wizarding charm and they will be fighting to be with you."

"No, thank you. I must be getting back."

They stepped out of the camper, back into the noise and bustle of the carnival. They paused for a moment, watching the fireworks overhead, and then Rojin walked Remus towards the small wood where he could apparate away discreetly. Yet, as they walked under the trees, the branches cold and naked in the fall air, Rojin put out a hand to stop him.

"I do worry, Remus. I'm not just saying that," he said, his voice low. "You advise me to stay away, to turn an eye to what's coming, and yet it seems you are doing quite the opposite."

His gaze was hard, and Remus could truly feel the concern in his friend's voice. He smiled.

"This is your world, Rojin," he looked again to the flashing lights behind them. He then turned back to the pack-leader. "…and this war is mine."

Rojin shook his head. "I don't like it. It hardly seems like something worth dying over."

Remus forced a smile. "Well, you said it yourself; I'm a very tough wolf… I'll be fine."

"I do hope so."

Rojin held out his hand, and Remus took it.

"Goodbye."

"Give Alyssa and Kristopher my regards."

"Of course."

With a last look at his friend, Remus turned on the spot, the wood and the sounds of the carnival vanishing into darkness.

Rojin stood alone and unmoved, his eyes locked on the spot where Remus had been a moment earlier. He brought his hand to his mouth, wiping at his lips and the dull lingering taste of moonshine. He turned and moved his way back to his campsite. Entering the camp, Alyssa came up beside him as they passed the rows of trailers, watching him. A small smile pulled at her lips, but she didn't say anything.

Lights flashed. The sound of muggles on rides, their laughter and screams filled the air, and just outside his camper Rojin stopped. he looked at the scene around him. He breathed deeply, the familiar smells filling him. Yes, Remus, he thought to myself, this is my world, not yours.

Opening the door to his camper, he found Fenrir Greyback was waiting for him.

The werewolf sat at the table, in the very spot that Remus had vacated not ten minutes earlier. As Rojin shut the door, he grabbed the bottle of Moonshine and poured the last of it into the two glasses.

"It went well?" he asked.

"Yes," Rojin took the glass he offered and drained it. He sighed. The brew was cool and refreshing like water. It had been a very long time since it had made him drunk. He gently set the glass down on the table. "I don't think he will be coming back any time soon."

Fenrir smiled, his sharp pointed teeth shining in the harsh artificial light. He stood, and held out a hand to Rojin.

"Good."

**oOo End oOo**

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**A/N: "**Yes, it is a bit of a harsh, abrupt ending. But I often have to remind myself that, generally, the Order was losing the war, especially the first. And with the second war, any real advantage that happened was always Harry going against order wishes with some hail mary pass (hail Harry pass? YES! Let's make this a thing) . Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Please Review! Thanks!" -E


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